Apocalyptic Mobile
by ZaDR
Summary: The Armada conquers Earth, seizing Zim and holding him prisoner.  Dwicky returns with the Plookesians, and forms a resistance with the surviving humans.  Will they accept an escaped Zim?  And what will the consequences be? [Yaoi, yuri, het]
1. Hallucinations and Garbage

**A/N: Oookay. **

**I'm aware I have an ongoing story, but that might be on hiatus. I keep starting a new chapter, and I just get totally lost. Bad stuff. **

**This is something where it's like...'whoah'. My close friends will tell you that I went nuts planning each and every individual chapter up to eleven to make sure I wouldn't get too stuck. **

**Disclaimer One: I am not and am in no way affiliated with Jhonen Vasquez, Nickelodeon, Viacom, MTV, and any other party that is a part of the Invader Zim genre. I do not own Invader Zim and never, ever will. This is entirely my idea and is not supported by any of the above parties. **

**Disclaimer Two: Yaoi. Man on man. **_**Gay. **_**Don't like, don't read. There is also some character death that will be mentioned and in some instances described in the past and actually occur. I am extremely, extremely graphic sometimes. There will be sexual situations (probably not full-on lemon/lime, no promises), including rape, possibly masterbation and sex with more than one partner. There **_**will **_**be violence and possibly gory situations. And um...yeah...cover the children's eyes. If you'd like a list of spoilers for character death and trauma and stuff, I will send you a list of absolutely definite characters. Thanks. **

**Pairing Warnings:  
Zim/Dib/Dwicky: Love triangle (that is to say, ZaDR and DaDR) **

**Brian/Zita **

**Tak/Gaz **

**GIR/Mimi **

**Red/Purple/Zim triangle (That is to say, RaPR and threesome rape. Unpleasant, neh? I warned you.) **

**Onesided Keef/Zim **

**---**

The cool of cement soothed deep emerald bruises, the damaged face pressed to it in a desperate effort for any kind of relief. The beaten prisoner released his breath, a long, soft sigh of someone that hurts very badly but can't see any reason to actually stop the hurting.

One glove reached ahead of him, and in the bare light cast through from the bare bulb lit above him, he could see where the glove had been torn and tattered, holes at the ends of each fingertip where claws had pierced them, and an additional four rips in the calms, the circular tips of his digits.

He dragged himself forward, letting out a small moan at the movement. Irken blood leaked from his rib area, dripping onto the ground and darkening the grey cement, its color dimmed in the rather lacking light. The alien, once an overly-proud Invader, was now nothing to the Empire, less than he'd even been on Earth. He lay in this cell, occasionally drugged for the Tallests' use. The sedatives were blissful, often leaving him in hallucinations for days, talking with people he knew back on Earth.

Especially the Dib-human. Oh, God. He wondered how the boy had reacted, when he found out that the Armada had come. Did he blame Zim? He wondered if the boy was even alive. If he had known that this would be the fate of the planet, he never would have tried to hard to take over the planet, to undermine the boy's efforts, to ostracize him from his species. And he'd only been a smeet. Zim had never truly considered that on Earth, blinded by his hate for the other. Being locked away for years put things into quite a perspective, however, and Zim's hate had slowly ebbed. In fact, being trapped away from everyone that was decent to him, he could even relate to the other.

The door slid open, and the tiny alien flinched away, staring up at the looming shadow over him. He felt excitement rise in his chest as he waited to see if there were two shadows. Sure, it meant rape, but sometimes it meant those lovely, lovely drugs. He wanted a hallucination right now.

Life couldn't be that merciful right now. Instead, a small servant Irken opened the door, carrying a tray of food and looking nervous. It wasn't that uncommon, he was being advertised as an insane Invader who'd lost it in Operation Impending Doom One, and plotted to finish the destruction he began in the second operation.

In his fear, the tiny boy edged forward, bringing thoughts of escape back to Zim's mind. Oh, he'd be beaten if he was caught...but the crack between the door and its frame was too much to ignore. The alien pushed himself to his feet, seizing the servant boy by his antennae and bringing him to the floor, clamping a hand over his mouth. "Scream and I swear I'll tear them off," He hissed, anger in his voice. Being captured had allowed him to put things into perspective, but the confines had so damaged him that he was almost animalistic within them, at least, when he wasn't drugged up.

The boy whimpered, and Zim pulled on the antennae, slicing an exposed claw into the metal of the PAK and severing a few choice wires. Instantly, the other went limp in his grip, large red eyes darting around in horror, mouth opening in a silent scream. Zim smirked down at him, straightening upright and heading for the door, away from the light, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to note if there were any other around. His antennae pricked upright, searching for the most minute noise, a footstep or a sigh, perhaps.

Upon hearing none, he stepped outside the door, trailing the flat of a single claw along the wall to track where he was going. He followed the source of light, squeedily-spooch pounding in his head. He was well aware of the risk he took. Finding himself under the lightbulb, he was more visible, and it was noticable how much damage he had sustained in the last few years. His Irken skin had turned a sickly, lighter color, fitting tight around an emaciated frame. His Irken uniform was ripped and tattered, loose about his smaller body. Bruises and scrapes were evident. Dried blood caked under his fingernails, a deep green that almost resembled varieties of human mold.

Inside, he winced at his appearance. He still had pride, still felt of himself as an invader, and _hated _to look so weak. However, he continued on, knowing that time was of the essence.

To keep himself sane, he had always planned escapes, although he had never before had the opportunity to actually use them. Every time there were unusable materials littered about the bottom of his cell, he had observed guards collect it and dump it down a chute.

That chute spelled hope, for it would undoubtedly lead somewhere that wouldn't be heavily guarded. He'd seen Garbage Detail in his days as a free Irken, and knew that it would be a relatively unnoticable position. He'd have to abandon the light and continue onward.

He took steps forward, his vision fading back into the darkness, objects indistinguishable again. He groped forward, his hands out, until one struck against the cool metal of a handle. He felt his breath leave him. Just his luck, too, no one was yet along to check on the strangely missing serving Irken. He tightened his grip on the handle, tugging it forward and slipping himself into the metal tunnel. As soon as he released the door, it slammed shut and he shot down the chute like a bullet, out of control in his speed. His claws raked at the smooth metal, desperately trying to slow down his progress.

He was unceremoniously deposited onto a pile of snacks. There were several raging fires, melting down scrap metal, brightening up the room and making it swelteringly hot. It felt like the flames themselves were gauging at Zim's sensitive Irken eyes, and he whimpered out despite himself, trying to shield himself with one arm. Lowering it, he found his vision to be impaired, no longer receiving images.

The Irken paused, debating with himself as to how long his vision would take, and how long he would actually have. Would he be able to get away with hiding while his PAK repaired him?

_Eh, probably not. _

Sighing, Zim pricked his antennae up for extra perception. He reached in front of him, feeling the slope of the trash pile and attempting to ease his way down. A banana peel shifted as he brought his palm down upon it, making him slip. His body tumbled down, garbage falling around him. A slight 'oompf' escaped from between his lips as he hit the ground, breath knocked out of him. Several moments were spent gasping for air, lying spreadeagled as beads of sweat developed upon his brow.

Blinking, the massive mound of trash swam before his eyes. It was blurry, but, hell, it was progress. Zim pushed himself up to his feet, blinking rapidly to make the picture more clear. He circled around, trying to find an exit, a way out of the burning heat. Red eyes, now healed (although watery with the newfound pain of light), lit upon a heavy metal door. The poor invader raced for the door. Weakened muscles already ached, but he ignored the throbbing pain.

He made it to do the door, stopping himself with the flats of his palms against fumbled with the doorknob, desperate for freedom and relief from the pain and heat. The obstacle was thrown open, slamming against the wall. It wasn't like anyone would hear, not down here.

The challenge of stairs met him, seemingly endless in their length. Regardless, he darted up them, pain stabbing through his once finely-tuned invader legs. It felt like an eternity passed, each stair following another. The pace slowed after a while, legs about to give out. Sighting the doors made hope leap in his heart, and he sped up, collapsing onto the double-doors and falling to his knees behind some storage shed. Zim found himself again gasping for air, greedy for the cool sweetness of the air outside, polluted as Irk was.

He let himself relax for only a moment, looking around for the least guarded portion of fence. As soon as he was sighted by the guard, the rather restful escape would be over. He would have to sprint. Pressing himself against the wall of the tiny building, Zim peered around the corner to observe the guards there. He found only two, startled at the lack of staffing. Oh, well, it wasn't like there was anything else important here. Years spent living here, and Zim wasn't aware of this area. Putting his invader training to the test, he ran through the steps of infiltration/escape.

_Distraction. _

The alien grabbed at the ground, searching for a pebble. Damn the Armada's gardeners. His hand struck something small and hard, a tiny victory for Zim, throwing it as hard as he could against the fence behind him. He wished desperately for a SIR unit, or at least a fully functional PAK. He'd need to operate on his to undo the damage the Tallest had.

Two Irken heads swiveled about, Zim pulling his head away just in time.

"We should go investigate," Mumbled a violet-eyed guard, pulling away from his comfortable position leaning against the fence, making his way around the storage shed. A smaller Irken tagged at his heels, eyes wide and suspicious. Every muscle in Zim tightened. He'd only get one shot at this...

He leapt around the corner, ducking into a silent roll, just as the side he'd previously been on came into the sight of the two guards. He went to the farthest corner, slipping the ball of one foot up onto a brick. His leg trembled, exhausted, but he forced it to remain stable, one clawed hand just barely reaching the top of the fence and hoisting himself and over. Weakened and absolutely exhausted, his body dropped behind the wall.

"Karn! What was that?" Came a distinctly high-pitched voice, and Zim froze, wide-eyed and frightened.

There was a pause, and he wished desperately that he could know what the guards were doing.

Finally, exasperated, Karn spoke to his partner. "Stop being paranoid, Amee."

Zim let his head rest against the wall, letting out a silent sigh of relief. He got to his feet, taking his time. For once, he blessed his shortness, thrilled to not be taller than the wall. Careful to tense every muscle before setting down his foot, he made no noise as he slipped away from the wall and towards the lines of buildings that made up the planet. He allowed himself to get lost in the streets, sticking towards the alleys. He knew that he wasn't in brilliant condition, but there were plenty of homeless on Irk. He blended in well, and no one questioned him.

Ah...and now to find a ship to hijack.

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**A/N: Don't bother me at the lack of M-ness in this, or the lack of boismex or whatever. xP I love you guys.**


	2. Blades and Heartbeats

**A/N: I forgot to do my linebreaks last chapter. I was all..."SHIT!" My bad, guys. I hate re-uploading.  
By the way, guys, my mind is in, like, hyperspeed. There is so much stuff occuring to me that wasn't in the planning. I'm all..."Stick to the planning...BUT WAIT! I LIKE THIS IDEA!"  
**

* * *

The destruction met Zim's standards. In fact, it might have surpassed.

The alien stood, wide-eyed, in what had once been his classroom. The roof had been completely obliterated, leaving half-walls to seperate classrooms, burned and crumbled, bits of plaster littering the ground. The desks had been slammed into one corner, many cracked in half or missing legs. The ones farthest from the wall were scorched a charcoal black on the outer edge. Most likely they had been shot at by an Irken weapon; the burnt desks turning into a noble shield for their comrades. The various decorations around the room had been obliterated. Tiny pieces of construction paper lay amongst shards of glass from the shattered windows. It was strangely quiet without the insane voice of the Dib-human, hateful and--

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't kill you right now," Hissed a voice rather similar to the one he'd been imagining. Zim could feel a cool blade pressing to the back of his neck. The Irken, knowing better than to play, slowly turned about.

Harsh amber eyes were staring him down, narrowed behind a pair of damaged old glasses. The teen was still wearing a trademark trenchcoat, which fluttered around his frame. The scythe had grown longer, jagged and ebony.The only real peculiarity was the fact that the blade extended from Dib's elbow, and silver was visible on the rest of the member, extending to the shoulder. The metal also replaced what had once been three fingers on his left hand. There was scar tissue surrounding where skin met metal. Was it really possible that he'd had so much metal grafted to his skin? What had happened to the boy?

"Well?" He snarled, unwavering in his tone.

A smattering of people had surrounded the frozen pair, on the outer edges of the classroom. Zim didn't dare turn his head to see them, but his antennae perked up at their noise. He tried to form the words to explain his prescence to Dib. "D-Dib-worm," he stammered, swallowing hard and feeling the tip of the blade come closer. "Zim had nothing to do with the invasion. I was taken as a prisoner of war." Dib seemed to hesitate, blade lowering the most unnoticable amount.

"Why?" The teenager questioned, still staring him down.

Zim swallowed again, bringing his gaze to the ground. Damn human couldn't have kept out of that. Softly, he mumbled, "I was disgraced because I destroyed Operation Impending Doom One. That's why when you studied the Irken documents, invasions always had a character after them. They tried to get rid of me when they sent me to Earth, and when they saw that I'd actually found an inhabitable planet..." He could feel the other's scrutinizing glare and he could feel his pulse rush in his ears, terrified that he was about to have his throat slit as soon as he escaped his hellhole. There were several silent moments, heart beating painfully loud, before Dib made his final decision.

"He's fine," Dib stated to the group, withdrawing his blade. Zim massaged his neck, glancing around at the people near him. Their names rushed back at him:

"Zita, don't you think I know Zim at this point? Zim would never, ever admit that he screwed up back on Irk if he still had his ego left to him," He replied coolly. "If he wants--" His eyes flickered back to Zim. "Then he can stay with us, but under strict supervision. I haven't just forgotten what happened, but he's the enemy of our enemy, and he probably knows the most about Irk here." The teen gazed around as his tattered looking collections of survivors. "Does anyone have an objection to that?"

The Letter M seemed to hesitate, leaving the room silent for a moment, before quietly asking, "Is it worth the risk of the Armada coming here?"

The amber-eyed boy looked him head on. "He's still an Earth survivor, so he's worth it as much as the rest of us are." The words seemed to finalize it, although there were some doubtful expressions. "Everyone, go back underground." His command was calm but controlling; the group seemed to obey it at once, flipping open trapdoors to the once-feared underground classrooms. It was so ironic, that something once so feared by the students was now their safe haven.

A tall, dark-haired man, elder to the rest of the refugees, paused at the entrance, eyes darting back to Dib as though he wanted to say something before he left, but thought the better of it and climbed into the trapdoor, climbing out of sight.

Now that the two of them were alone, they stared at each other, looking at their former enemy's face. They were both so worn out, so...damaged. Hell, Dib was missing body parts. That's Zim's faulit, The alien noted miserably. "Dib..." There was no honorific, for once. "Your arm and your fingers--"

"--were destroyed by the Armada in their initial attack," The teen completed, voice devoid of emotion in a rather frightening way. "I don't know if this is some kind of plan, or if you're serious, but I'm going to say this: do not screw this up and do not think you're going to get away with anything." His partially metallic hand yanked open the trapdoor, standing by and waiting for the alien he'd once so despised to enter his current home

* * *

**A/N: I hope no one thought that I was trying to do an FMA ripoff on Dib. The thought process was more that I had an idea in my head of Dib with a blade to Zim's throat, but it seemed...weird to give Dib a bladed instrument, then I got all these ideas. When I was writing it, I was like, 'OH SHIT HE HAS A METAL ARM'.**


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